I'm Sioux Roslawski and this is my blog about writing, dogs, grown-up children, menopause, the joy of a marvelous book, classroom teaching in general, and specifically, the teaching of writing. You can email me at sroslawski(at)yahoo(dot)com.

The Pyrenees---Southern France

Friday, May 6, 2011

Go to Lisa Ricard Claro's blog. Drink in the photo. Write a book "blurb" that is 150 words long, or less if you can, post it on your blog, and connect yor blurb to everyone else's via Lisa's friend, Mr. Linky.

Oh, and don't forget to comment on the other blurbs. That's what makes BBF such fun--reading the path others took after they became inspired by the picture.

Here is my blurb and the photo, provided by Becky Povich:

The Final Word

Bernice was a talker, hardly pausing to take a breath when she talked; she never shut up, she had a horrible case of diarrhea of the mouth---her talking just never stopped running.

Surrounded by constant noise, her husband was losing his mind. He pleaded, he prayed…but nothing would stop the juggernaut that was Bernice’s mouth.

“Let’s go to Babbler Park on Saturday,” he suggested. It was fitting, since Bernice babbled like a brook, that the end of her talking would happen there, surrounded by the noisy water flowing over the rocks…

Harold shivered, delighted with the idea of finally being cocooned in silence…Read this gripping novel to find out how their day at the park played out.

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

It was a flight to Boston. Not a direct one, but I was going to be able to stay on the plane while they partially unloaded and then reloaded.

When we got to Chicago and all but 24 of us got off, I got my bag out of the overhead compartment and moved to a seat a few rows from the front. What luck! I'll be able to pick out a primo spot. And on Southwest...Unheard of!

photo by vpickering

As I was putting the bag into the overhead compartment above my new seat, one of the stewards said, "Don't bother stowing your bag." She had a whiff of a smile on her face.

"Why?" I asked. She told me she was not allowed to say, and turned her attention to doing something steward-y.

Oh my gosh! We are going to be the only ones aboard this plane. Some kind of screw-up happened, and nobody else is getting on. Only a couple of dozen people on this big ol' plane. I don't have to cram my bag into some compartment because we are going to have lots and lots of room to spread out...

I thought about the special fun we'd have on this special flight. Since it was Southwest, there'd be joking and cavorting, for sure. And I looked up at the ceiling and thought, Disco ball!

photo by createsimona

I was sure there was a special "attic-type" door in the ceiling of the plane, and down would drop a disco ball. And then the real festivities would begin...

But then the steward got on the intercom. "Ladies and Gentlemen: We are part of a plane swap. You'll have to exit the plane, but..." She explained we were going to be allowed to board first on our new plane but get off, we must.

I think I'm going to crawl back into my fantasy and continue the dream...

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

After spending an eternitythree decades four years at college plus an internship, my son has landed a job.

The next time I go to Taco Bell, he will be the the one making my burrito...

Just kidding. He got a job in his field (music therapy) at a state mental health facility about 5 hours away from home. And although soon (within the month) I will have to deal with a completely empty nest, there will have to be some celebrating in the meantime.

When he was little, and even into his teenaged years, he could eat a whole batch of macaroni and cheese by himself. And he had it several times a week. (He would have chowed down on it every day if we had allowed it.)

After his first interview, I told him that when he became employed, we would go to Sweetie Pie's. It's a soul food restaurant in St. Louis and has been voted as having the best macaroni and cheese in town.

Now I can rest a little easier knowing he's not going to California or Minnesota or Vermont. At least not yet...

This weekend I traveled to Nigeria. No, not in real life, but via a novel I started on Thursday and finished yesterday.

During a trip to Boston, I began a novel by Chris Cleave called Little Bee. That's one great thing about the long waits at airports...lots of time to read...

On the flight home, right before our descent, I finished it. Little Bee was an enjoyable read because you got the story in little bits, as the characters felt comfortable enough or tortured enough to reveal more.

If you were British (and white), and were on the beach in Nigeria (on vacation) and two Nigerian teenaged girls came running up to you, begging that you help them, would you? Would you get involved even after you saw the armed soldier-wannabees who were hunting them? Would you say yes even when you were asked to make a physical sacrifice for these strangers' lives?

Little Bee explores several interesting issues: what does it take to "make it" in this world...where does one's committment end...how a tortured past can twist and disfigure our present and future...

I would recommend this book. The storyline is engaging,it's told by two different characters, and gives a marvelous glimpse into another culture's life-and-death struggles.

Monday, May 2, 2011

Bless me followers 'cause I've been absent. It's been a week since my last posting...

A week ago Friday---Earth Day---our planet let us know that it was pissed off at Missouri. Perhaps it's the mess with Proposition B (the one concerning puppy mills; Mother Nature is angry that politicians are overturning what the people voted for). Whatever the reason, we had a tornado that tore through various parts of our suburbs and left behind many destroyed homes, but no lost lives...

photo by modps

My school lost its roof, along with some windows and other damage. It was deemed uninhabitable for the rest of the schoolyear. So on Easter, instead of looking for colorful eggs among the grass, I was looking through my cluttered classroom to find what I needed to teach, because we were moving to one of the middle schools.

(OMG! That tornado did not break my windows, but somehow it left stacks of papers and piles of books on every surface! How did it do that? It's a mystery...)

Then I had to pack up my "old" room for the summer---without much notice---and prepare for a substitute teacher, because on Thursday evening I would be flying towards Boston. (I went to National Writing Project's Urban Sites conference. If you're a teacher and want to hang around while I get so effusive, my slobber starts spraying all over the place, email me at sroslawski@yahoo.com and I will be glad to tell you all about the group. It's just as exciting as skydiving---which I've done three times---but without the possibility of getting killed.)

("Dear Sub---If Sean says he has a nosebleed and wants to go to the nurse, do NOT let him. He has been digging in his nose. Tell him to STOP digging.")

While I was out of town---temporarily torn away from my umbloggical cord---I missed posting, and I missed reading many posts. I fell in love with scallops--the small bay ones---and read a great book, which I'll talk about later this week.